


Tears

by JourneyFairfeather



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourneyFairfeather/pseuds/JourneyFairfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons can't get over what happened in Quinn's house, and Fitz tries his very best to soothe her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears

Jemma tried to hold back her tears, tried to keep her strength, even as she struggled with the bag of gauze. She needed Skye's blood off her hands. She needed to be clean, and calm, and to not have this reminder of her friend's life slipping away all over her unhelpful fingers.

 _Stop it, Jemma. Stop,_ she scolded herself, inhaling raggedly, blinking rapidly, wishing she'd listen. _Just stop._

As she violently scrubbed at her knuckles, relishing the pain and warmth from the friction, reminding herself that she was alive and as long as she was alive, she would keep Skye that way, too, she felt long, gentle fingers slide over her shoulder, and the walls crumbled. She dropped the gauze to the floor and silently, tearfully, turned into his arms, slipping hers around him and gripping his shoulders. She sobbed, heaving, body-wracking sobs, pressing her cheek to his jacket.

“Shh, Jemma, shh,” Fitz soothed, holding her, just holding her, rocking ever so slightly, his fingers flexing just enough to comfort.

“Leo,” she breathed, not thinking, using his first name, throwing away all semblance of normality. “I can't save her. I can't save her.”

He pushed her away just enough to look at her. “Hey, you stop that right now, Jemma.” Smoothing her hair with his palms, he lifted her face, forcing her to meet his eyes even as she struggled to breathe properly. “The hyperbaric chamber, that was _brilliant_. You saved her with just that. Skye is _alive_ because of you.”

“But just barely!” she gasped. “I don't know how to fix her, Fitz! I can fix anything and I don't know how to fix _her_!”

“Jemma, _stop_.” He squeezed her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “Please.”

His voice broke on the last syllable, and she was startled into silence. Fitz rarely cried – in fact, Jemma realized, he only really cried when _she_ was upset. “Fitz...” she whispered.

Before she could say another word, he pulled her up, crushing his lips to hers. She froze, her hands the only thing that moved as they rose to wrap around his arms. Just as her brain started functioning again, as her lips parted under his, as her fingers clenched into his jacket sleeves...she remembered. Behind her fluttering eyelids, she saw Skye, cold and bloodied on the floor. She saw Coulson, more terrified than she'd ever seen him before. She saw Ward and May, standing by in silent horror. She even saw Fitz, not as he was now - holding her, kissing her – but as he had been, white as a sheet and silent in fear.

“No,” she murmured, pulling her lips from his. “Fitz... Leo... Stop.”

He jumped back, his arms falling to his sides. “Oh, god, Jemma. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Jemma hated herself. She hated everything _about_ herself. She hated that she couldn't save Skye. She hated that she'd pushed Fitz away – it was the last thing she'd have wanted to do on any other day – hated that she'd allowed herself to have a moment of emotion when her friend lie dying a few rooms away.

“Jemma, I...”

“No.” She straightened her spine, brushed her cheeks with the back of her hand. Pressing her lips together, (still feeling his on them,) she fisted her hands at her sides. “No. Don't you dare apologize.”

He watched her, his light eyes soft, searching.

“You and me, Fitz. We're going to save Skye.” Her voice was silk over steel, fire and ice. “And after we get her back, you're going to kiss me properly, not because we're scared or afraid or in danger, but because you want to kiss me and I desperately want to kiss you.”

With that, she turned on a heel and marched out of the room.

She knew he'd follow. He'd follow her anywhere.

The feeling – _all_ of the feelings – was mutual.


End file.
